


But It Might Just Work

by deskclutter



Category: Princess Tutu
Genre: Death, F/M, and more!, life - Freeform, the things between
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-22
Updated: 2010-06-22
Packaged: 2017-10-10 05:43:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/96229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deskclutter/pseuds/deskclutter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An examination of the many legs down the Trousers of Time that might account for where Fakir and Ahiru may eventually end up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	But It Might Just Work

  
What happens after the end of the story is that possibilities fracture until they number a million.

In one, Fakir tried as best he could to write Ahiru back into a girl, even on the day that his breathing began to slow and age finally closed his eyes. The people shook their heads sadly and said, "He could have been a great writer."

Fakir grew up, in another, or he thought he did. He moved away from Kinkan, met a girl and had children. When he died his eyes were broken and he clutched an old yellow feather in one hand.

Fakir gave up on writing, somewhere, and somewhere else he became one of the most accomplished ballet dancers around the world, and he was accompanied by a little yellow duckling, who became a beautiful white duck and when she died at the peak of his career he left his profession to take up writing, most of which was published posthumously. Another possibility saw as Fakir daubed yellow onto the crude, yet charming illustration of the duck he drew next to a page of his writing, and people hurried to buy those limited edition prints.

Fakir taught the art of the sword, sometime, and some other time he drifted across the world, unable to hold a steady job and he died, in the end, somewhere far from the water, far from home, and his cap with a feather in it was stolen before his body grew cold.

Some possibility detailed Fakir's life as a blacksmith, and another had Ahiru leaving him to have a life without her because she wanted him to be happy and he couldn't be happy when he was looking after her so she went away.

Ahiru, in some life somewhere, danced ballet at little children's parties as a magic trick, and once she had to compete with a monkey for top spot in a competition. (She won once and lost once and once there was a draw.) Somewhere, they lounge in content anonymity with occasional snippets of news outside the walls trickling in as letters from Mytho and Rue, who are touring the world. 'Wouldn't it be nice if we could do it too?' Ahiru thinks, and Fakir nods in agreement, but really they are fine where they are, even if not completely happy.

Fakir once became nothing of great note; he was a writer of no reknown and a dancer on occasion only, and somewhere he teaches writing, fencing, dancing because those who can't, teach while Ahiru can do nothing because she is a duck.

There are a million roads that can be travelled when the story ends--Fakir dies and Ahiru lives, or the other way around; a cat kills Ahiru and Fakir dies of heartbreak soon after; they live and live and live until they forget to die and become shrivelled fossils who are nothing like the duck and the boy who saved the town and ended the story--but only one possibility has Fakir scratching out the words onto white paper, black on pale, and then Ahiru is a girl again, _again_, with Fakir barely able to believe his eyes and his hands and his ears until she yelps and trips and he sighs in exasperation but is secretly bursting with joy and they live happily ever after...

It's a million to one chance.

But as wise men once calculated, million to one chances happen nine times out of ten.

* * *

  
_Scientists have calculated [that the existence of a giant turtle swimming in space] are a million to one.  
_

_ But wizards have calculated that million to one chances happen nine times out of ten._

Shut up, Discworld is awesome. Title is the fault of Sgt. Fred Colon at the end of _Guards! Guards!_


End file.
